Acceptable Release
by Minerva Solo
Summary: When Nagi wakes up female after a mission he's naturally horrified. Even worse: no one seems to notice unless he tells them. He desperately wants his usual body back, but until he works out how he acquired this one he's stuck with it. Post-Gluhen, complet
1. Part One

**Acceptable Release**

_A/N: An abrupt change to Nagi sets in motion changes in those around him too as he faces his own issues and they see their own in his dilemma. Nagi genderswap. PostGluhen._

_Pairings: Omi/Nagi_

_Setting: post Gluhen_

_Warnings: shounen ai, genderswap, het (sort of) and yaoi couples, swearing, angst, sap, minimal smut. Rating may go up later._

_ Disclaimers: Weiss are not mine, and never will be. Though I'm still happily ssucking other innocents into the fandom!  
_

**Part One**

It wasn't a matter of changed centres of gravity or even just looking down. For a start, Nagi was lying on his back under a hefty amount of rubble. It was something like déjà vu, in that sense. Some circuit in his brain always stopped the rubble for falling on anyone, no matter how much he wanted to kill people. It was like it slowed before it landed on people already knocked flying by the first telekinetic punch. They woke with rock resting on them, but no injuries.

Nagi knew himself. He knew ever inch of his body, every skin flake, every capillary, every cilia. It was something he had relied on to be constant once, accepting the vertical changes but being completely unprepared for everything else that hit him unusually late in his teens. For a while he'd lost all sense of self, in this strange jail that couldn't even make up its mind about his voice, let alone his physical appearance.

So once it had settled down and gone back to an even more constant state than before, one didn't expect _this_ to happen.

Bits of him were gone. Bits of him were different. Inside, bits of him were new. He knew every cell, and every cell was screaming change at him. Panic began to build, hot and tight in his throat. He tried to claw at the rock around him, but he was pinned down by a metal beam. He couldn't even remember what had upset him so much now. His mind was taken with the change and increasing inability to breathe.

He _pushed_. Nothing moved. He summoned the energy from those foreign cells and pushed again. His panting stirred the dust, but that was all he could manage.

Even more than the change, this took up his mind. He couldn't even articulate his abject terror. There was just this black hole in his mind, this Truth, which he circled and circled and did not dare to think. It was too big to take in at once, but it couldn't be broken down. The thought just sat there, waiting for him to think it. Nagi screwed his eyes shut. The dust on his cheeks began to turn to mud.

A pair of strong hands tossed the beam to one side and another pair shifted the rubble on his legs. Two familiar faces stared down at him. He was shaking and crying and he didn't care.

"Nagi, what's wrong?" Schuldig cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why are you just lying there hyperventilating?"

"I'm not the man I was when I woke up this morning," Nagi gasped.

Schuldig shook his head, amused, and reached down to help him up. Nagi took a moment to clutch his hand, missing twice. Schuldig eventually put his hands underneath Nagi's arms and hauled him out of the hole like a small child. Pressed close to Schuldig's chest, the changes were more obvious.

"Fuck. You turned into a girl."

Nagi passed out.

* * *

Nagi sat on the couch awkwardly. Crawford and Schuldig exchanged looks. Nagi sighed at them and pulled his knees up to his chest, curling up as tightly as he had as a child.

"Rosenkreuz, yes?" he said softly.

"Probably," Crawford nodded.

"But not certainly," Schuldig warned. Nagi shot him a dirty look.

"So..." Nagi looked at the older men.

Schuldig shrugged easily, and Crawford's silence had a similar meaning, though it wasn't in him to admit ignorance so casually. Nagi swallowed his disappointment. He fought the urge to fidget. These clothes no longer fit quite right, and he was being touched in newly sensitive places.

"Do we know anything?" Nagi asked quietly.

"Well," Schuldig glanced at Crawford, "it's probably some variation on telekinesis."

"Really?" Nagi raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, like your electrokinesis. You know, a variant dependent on having mastered telekinesis first."

"So it's got to be someone powerful and highly skilled," Nagi said. "I tend towards brute force, mostly."

"Yes," Crawford said. "I hope you're not abandoning those fine motor skills."

"Of course not," Nagi said dismissively. "I just have less use for them."

"Why poke when you can clobber?" Schuldig grinned. "Biokinesis, that's the body stuff, is all fine motor skills."

"I can't help it," Crawford shook his head, "tell me, where did you learn all this?"

"Knew a few," Schuldig told him. "Always locked up studying. If you want to alter the body, you've really got to know it through and through first. Cellular level."

Neither of the older men, looking at each other for now, noticed Nagi's shoulders sag slightly, and the frown ease from his forehead.

"I suppose you've got some horror story as anecdotal evidence here," Crawford smirked.

"Naturally," Schuldig laughed. "Russian girl. Tried to turn herself black and ended up looking like a grizzly bear. Stimulated the wrong cells by accident."

"I was expecting something worse," Nagi piped up.

"Me too," Crawford admitted.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Schuldig said agreeably. "None of them ever tried the big stuff. Big focus was on eyes and fingerprints. Things like hair and skin colour were useful too, but really, it was the ability to change the unique things about you into the unique things about someone else that Rosenkreuz wanted."

"Of course," Crawford sighed. "Though I still don't understand what you were doing hanging around with Physicals."

"Yeah," Nagi said thoughtfully. "I mean, Crawford obviously didn't, and you're both Mentals."

"Yeah, but Crawford didn't send as much time in the ward as I did," Schuldig pointed out. "They tested all of the biokinetics as healers, but nearly all of them focused either out or in. I mean, on other people or on themselves. The ones that could change themselves pretty much disappeared once they were tested. Only one I saw twice was bear girl."

"So you think it could have been a healer?" Crawford suggested.

"You aren't slightly curious as to why they'd be wasting those kind of resources in Japan?" Schuldig asked. "I mean, Kritiker wiped out any base Rosenkreuz had here."

"But they still want us dead," Crawford pointed out firmly.

"Like fuck," Schuldig yawned. "When was the last time either of us saw any action? And they were chasing Nagi even less."

"It could be Saijoh Takatori," Nagi suggested quietly.

"What's he got against you?" Crawford asked slowly.

Nagi chewed his hair, the tip of his fringe that long now. He needed a hair cut, he supposed, but he liked it this length. No one could see his reactions.

"Nags?" Schuldig prompted.

"He thinks I'm after Mamoru," Nagi said eventually. "Sexually."

Schuldig snorted. "Sure."

Crawford remained silent, but Schuldig wasn't the only one in the room who knew what the older man was thinking. Nagi had already tried one relationship with a partial ally that had ended badly. Was he foolish enough to make another attempt at it? He might as well lust after Aya-chan.

"He warned me off, and told me he'd have Mamoru fire me if he felt I was getting too close," Nagi said quietly. "Apparently I'm not allowed to be friendly."

"How friendly?" Schuldig asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No more than I ever have been with you," Nagi said evasively. After all, Mamoru had been obliviously to his approaches, so it hardly mattered. Schuldig snickered anyway.

"Is Mamoru's office bugged, or are some of the Kritiker staff in Saijoh's pay?" Crawford asked calmly.

"Both," Nagi said simply. "He hired most of the staff before Mamoru took over."

"And bugs?"

"Everywhere, though Mamoru can access all of them. He assumes they're just security devices, and sees no harm in allowing his grandfather to see what happens."

"His grandfather is evil!" Schuldig blurted out. "I'm sorry, but kept his own family stuffed with wax? Yeah, like he didn't know."

"I know!" Nagi agreed vehemently. "Mamoru is just blind to it."

"I suppose it takes one to know one," Crawford murmured under his breath, glancing at Schuldig. He ignored the curious look he got in return. "He has been offering work for both of us," he informed Nagi.

"You want me to pass that on to Mamoru? He'll flip," Nagi smirked at the thought.

"Understandably," Schuldig admitted. "What's going on at Kritiker that we're getting most of the assassinations?" he asked.

Nagi shrugged. "Do you know what Mamoru would do to me if he knew I was telling you all of this?" he said mildly. "He's cutting out the killing teams. More emphasis on bringing information out into the open. I'm one of the few assassins left. Most of the others opted for rehab, of a sort, or moved to Kryptonbrand."

"Interesting," Crawford mused. "That would explain Fujimiya's presence at Heathrow."

"Look how international we are," Schuldig boasted cheerfully. "He can recognise an airport from a single vision."


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

Nagi refused to fidget as he stood in the antechamber. This was, in part, his punishment, and he refused to allow anyone the satisfaction of knowing it was affecting him. He'd failed to return on time, and his report was purposefully sketchy. Standing still, at least in this position, was a task. It would be a while before he felt comfortable in his clothes now. He hoped he'd never need to, at least like this.

Eventually, as the clock flashed three AM in his direction, Nagi was invited into the office by a smug Rex. Other than the team liaisons, he was the only member of Kritiker allowed to see Persia in the flesh. Sometimes he abused this privilege and called him Bombay, though he bit his tongue when he was Mamoru's aid and any use of 'Omi' was purely accidental.

She abused. Her tongue. He found- She found it hard to swallow. Nagi knew his agitation must be evident now, and fought it down. He was still a young man, no matter what he might look like. At least, he comforted himself, he hadn't grown up with this confusion as others did. He had heard about Ayame.

"Your report was glib," Mamoru said bluntly. "You were missing for almost twelve hours."

"I was injured," Nagi said quietly. "I was struck by the falling rubble." He ran his hand through his hair, lifting his fringe to reveal a black-brown scrape. It had been cleaned thoroughly, though there was a purplish lump that raised it out in relief.

"Then where were you?" Mamoru said crisply. "We have had teams clearing the area since dawn."

"As soon as I came around I felt it necessary to relocate to a secure area," Nagi replied. He hated this game, but he loved playing it.

"Schwarz have been reported in the area," Rex told him. She was smiling.

"Yes," Nagi said simply, smiling back.

"Prodigy, I know you have some vestiges of loyalty-"

"Schuldig told me that your grandfather has been hiring them to take out any targets you have refused to accept as Persia."

Mamoru looked stunned for a second, but the mask fell back into place. "Schuldig is a known liar."

Nagi chose not to argue the point. "They found me," he admitted, "while I was unconscious and revived me."

Mamoru's mouth thinned, but he could not find fault in Nagi for this turn of events.

"You followed them back?"

"I passed out again, and I woke in their apartment."

"Are you willing to reveal the location of that apartment?" Rex asked, a notepad in hand and a challenge in her eyes.

Nagi sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. He caught Mamoru repressing a smile at the action.

"No current member of Weiss could take either Oracle or Mastermind, let alone together," Nagi said, not hiding his contempt. "No previous Weiss managed, and they all had greater experience. Mastermind incapacitated three members of the third Weiss team alone while they were on guard and ostensibly prepared for them." Mamoru looked rather less amused at this reminder. "Even I would be hard tasked to take out either of the remaining members of Schwarz, as the abilities of both would allow them to prepare for any attack I might make. And," he said firmly, "that situation shall never arise. I would never take on such an assignment."

"Thank you, Nagi," Mamoru nodded. "That was... eloquent. However, you still need to account for your lapse in protocol."

"I had information I felt best relayed to you alone."

Mamoru raised an eyebrow. Rex didn't move, and Nagi sighed internally.

"We were attacked by operatives I believe belonged to Rosenkreuz."

"And your evidence for this?"

It wasn't doubt or distrust that prompted Mamoru to ask, Nagi knew. It was fear.

"I believe I was prompted by a telepath into emotionally reacting to minor jibes and used my powers more violently than I had meant to. I suspect there may have been another telekinetic present as well." Nagi paused, waiting for Mamoru to open his mouth and start speaking. As he watched the lips part he plunged on: "When I was revived I discovered that my physical appearance has been altered to female."

The whole travesty was suddenly made much better by the looks on Mamoru and Rex's faces.

* * *

Nagi rolled over on his thin bed and stared out of the window. This wasn't going to be a good day. He could feel it. He felt slightly queasy. The weak sunlight filtered between buildings. He hated this room, but as long as he stayed here he wouldn't have Kritiker operatives trying to find him. He knew where the bugs were here.

Nagi sighed and sat up. What was that saying? Better the devil you know. Somewhere along the line that had turned into a kind of personal motto. Better to stay where he knew he was miserable then move and be paranoid.

Dressing was easy. Nagi hated it for that. The clothes felt strange against his new breasts, but he'd figured they'd be slightly more sensitive. He'd read somewhere that small breasts where more sensitive. He touched his breasts through the fabric and stared at himself in the mirror. Perhaps he'd buy a softer shirt at some point. And maybe a tighter one, to wear underneath.

He'd dreamt a lot last night. He'd expected to, in a way. It had been a disturbing day. In his dreams he'd switched between male and female smoothly, not even noticing most of the time unless something drew his attention to his gender. Except, in one dream, something had. Someone. He'd woken up sweating and swallowing. Things inside him tightened and throbbed and burned and he hadn't known how to reach them and quell the desire. Hands had explored fruitlessly. He'd thought he'd known how this was supposed to work, and sometimes a wave of sensation would hint that he was getting something right, but he'd given up in despair, and had eventually fallen asleep again no more comfortable than he had been when he woke up.

Running his hands across his breasts again Nagi groaned. Of course it was going to be a bad day. He only had to remind himself of that feeling and it came back, and he still couldn't cope with it. He wanted to cry with frustration.

The mirror flashed as light slipped through the opening door opposite it. Nagi blinked and raised a hand.

"Is it hard to knock?" he asked coolly. The colour in his cheeks was higher than usual, but he hoped it wouldn't be too noticeable in the dim light of the room.

"I thought you might require some help dressing," Rex said calmly.

"Thank you, but I seem to have managed," Nagi told her reflection. "I don't need your assistance."

"Persia felt it wise..."

"I'm sure he did," Nagi said. "I'm quite capable of looking after myself, though."

"You might need some new underwear," Rex said.

"No. Thank you," Nagi said firmly.

Rex held his gaze in the mirror. "You don't need to be stubborn. I know this must be hard for you."

"You don't know," Nagi said calmly. "And since we both know you don't want to be here any more than I want you here shall we just consider our business concluded?"

"Certainly," Rex smiled. "What shall I tell Persia?"

"Whatever you like," Nagi said. "I'll speak to him later."

"You can speak to me now, if you want," a voice came from the corridor. Nagi looked up and actually smiled as Mamoru stepped into the small room. Rex made her silent exit and Nagi leant on the dresser to face his employer.

"Formally or informally?" Nagi asked calmly.

"Oh, informally, definitely," Mamoru told him. "I haven't had enough coffee for anything formal yet."

Mamoru sat on the bed, brushing aside discarded clothing to do so. Nagi admired that easy confidence. Mamoru fixed his eyes on Nagi. Something inside jumped, and Nagi glanced away. Those were nice eyes. They'd been nice eyes in the middle of last night as well.

"I just wanted to check how you were doing," Mamoru said casually. "This must be very disorientating for you."

Nagi flashed him another smile. It seemed easier to smile like this. He glanced down and noticed he hadn't finished buttoning his jacket. Oh well. And if he leant back and bit, and flashed that smile again, and look how it opened slightly lower than was necessary, and see how his legs looked that bit longer.

Hey, he was flirting. This wasn't so hard.

"I think it's good that you can still pass for male," Mamoru yawned. "I don't want to have to explain to the rest of the staff what's happened. They still don't believe half of the things that went on while I was with Weiss."

The small smile didn't falter, but Nagi felt his lips thin in protest. "It's not worth bothering about, really," he managed.

"That's what I thought," Mamoru said. "No, wait, obviously it is worth bothering about," he corrected himself hurriedly, "but I can't see what Kritiker can do for you, if you see what I mean. There's no medical explanation, and nothing in the historical files."

"Did you check yourself? Thank you," Nagi could feel his throat getting tighter and tighter.

"Oh, it was no problem," Mamoru smiled warmly. "You know, you might want to go and talk to Schwarz again. I'm afraid your old team are more likely to be of help than anyone here."

Nagi tried to relax. He knew that talking about Schwarz was hard for Mamoru. The mere idea of having Schuldig so close and knowing so much must have been torture for him. But still...

"Do you really think I'm still basically the same?" Nagi asked. "I mean, so people won't notice."

"I didn't, not at first," Mamoru shrugged. "I don't think you have anything to worry about." Nagi could see the bedclothes behind him begin to tremble. He'd forgotten about the mirror until Mamoru turned around in horror. "Nagi? Is something..."

"I'm okay," Nagi swallowed hard. "I just... I'm _okay_." The clothes stilled at the tone of his voice. "I'm going to go and see Crawford and _Schuldig_ today," he said firmly, watching for the wince.

"I didn't mean..." Mamoru murmured. "Oh, shit," he said as Nagi pushed past him. "When did my common sense get so dependant on caffeine?"


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

Nagi stretched in the back of the car, smiling slightly. Rex had pushed the mission dossier into his hand as he made his way out of the building. Mamoru wanted to keep him from seeing Crawford and Schuldig for as long as possible, despite any assurances to the contrary. Besides, it was good to know something hadn't changed. He could still kill, no matter what gender he was. As Schreient had proved, assassination was an equal opportunity employment.

Despite being hurt by Mamoru's comments the morning he still felt more comfortable pretending to be male. He didn't need, he reasoned, to let his targets know how off-balance he was. At least his centre of gravity wasn't markedly changed, as it might have been had his breasts been larger, and he had never depended on physical techniques in battle anyway. Running was the most he required of himself, and maybe the pulling of a trigger, if he was really exhausted.

The car pulled up outside a station just under a mile from the target's building. Nagi climbed out and walked into the station. He bought a ticket and walked down to the platform. He stood amongst the crush and watched a train pull in. He let himself be shuffled towards it with the boarding crowd, and then away with the alighting crowd. Still holding the ticket he exited the opposite side of the station and began walking towards his target's offices.

Nagi knew he had something of a superiority complex. Puny mortals.

The security systems were deactivated long before he reached the building. Sometimes he missed being the person to do that. He had enjoyed sitting with his laptop near or within the building they were attacking. Sometimes he had played with the footage and left the puzzled guards (assuming they had survived) to wonder why the anime assassins of Noir had infiltrated their building.

For a moment, Nagi pictured himself as Kirika, though his amusement soured when he realised that it was more than a passing resemblance. All he needed to do now was cut his hair, and then the bemused guards would want to know why their employers were dead if the only person in the building was a cosplayer.

He'd always liked Chloe better anyway.

Schuldig said that one of the members, the male members, of Weiss Side B was called Chloe. Nagi wondered if he had a comatose sister too.

These musing had brought him to the building and he stared at the door for a moment. He concentrated, but entirely failed to teleport inside. Perhaps it was something to do with body image. He tried to unlock it mentally, but still nothing happened.

With a heavy sigh Nagi pressed the intercom.

"Flowers for Saito-san."

"You don't have any flowers," a suspicious voice came back.

"Pity," came a rather more familiar voice over the intercom. "There'll be no lilies for you grave."

There were the sounds of a very brief struggle, then Nagi was buzzed into the building.

The target was dispatched with a bullet, much to Nagi's distaste. Schuldig watched him sympathetically.

"You're screwed, aren't you?" he said in German.

Nagi holstered the small revolver in the spacious jacket again and stared out of the window. A familiar van was parked below them, a familiar kitten logo on the side.

"They'll know you were here. They'll know," Nagi said in the same language, voice cracking with strain, "that I was unable to access my unique talents."

"Are you coming home with me?"

"Yes." Nagi wrapped his arms around himself and stared at his feet. "Please."

* * *

Crawford frowned as Schuldig and Nagi disappeared into Schuldig's room. Schuldig, he knew, had the entire contents of a rather well-stocked bar in there. Nagi was too delicate right now, he felt, to go through that.

Nagi collapsed onto Schuldig's bed. "Can you make me forget?" he asked softly. "Just for a while?"

"That bad, huh?" Schuldig asked.

"I just want to be me again, for as long as I can," Nagi told him.

"You're still you," Schuldig said cautiously.

"Of course I'm not," Nagi said scornfully. "Do I look like me? Do I sound like me? Do I even act like me?"

"You think like you," Schuldig told him simply.

"You're missing the point," Nagi told him. "And I don't. I keep thinking things that are completely alien to me."

"What sort of things?" Schuldig asked.

"Give me alcohol first," Nagi commanded.

Schuldig produced a bottle of beer and as mildly astonished at how quickly it disappeared. "Planning on getting slaughtered, are we?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Absolutely," Nagi said firmly, reaching for a second bottle.

"Schuldig?" a voice came from outside. "Here, now."

"He's a prick," Nagi said vaguely. "Stay."

Schuldig sighed. "I won't be a minute, kid. Better I go now than get bollocked later."

"But I want you here," Nagi pouted. Schuldig frowned. Was that a third bottle already? "I..." Nagi sighed. "I'm not drunk enough yet."

"Schuldig!"

"In a minute!" Schuldig yelled back. "Nagi, what were you going to say?"

"Nothing," Nagi insisted. "Ask me again in a few bottles."

Schuldig grinned wryly. "Sure thing." He clambered to his feet and reappeared in the main room with a sigh. Brad had his arms folded and a face like thunder.

"Look," Schuldig said bluntly. "That kid's having trouble adjusting. He's got to get used to having a female body."

"He shouldn't have to," Brad said stiffly.

"Don't be an idiot," Schuldig sighed. "He's vibrating like a plucked string. He has to accept this _now_."

Brad's expression softened. "That bad?" he asked.

Schuldig swallowed. "I have a theory on what's happened, you know."

"Do tell," Brad drawled.

"Later. He needs me now."

"Nagi isn't the type to need people," Brad scoffed.

"No, he's the type to not want to need people," Schuldig said cryptically. "Do you have any idea how badly fucked up he is in the head? Of course not, half those issues he's carrying were created by you."

"Do you think you know what happened to his powers?" Brad asked coolly.

"It's wrapped up in my theory," Schuldig dismissed him. "Right now I have to get his head around the idea that just because he's a girl, and can't control his powers, it doesn't mean he's someone else. Remarkably resilient to the idea."

"Don't get him drunk," Brad sighed. A bottle rolled out of Schuldig's door, dribbling cheap beer as it wandered across the carpet. "...Any more so," Brad finished wearily.

Schuldig returned to his room. Nagi was lying on the bed, looking miserable. Schuldig ran a hand down his back, following his spine right down. Nagi squirmed. He'd always been a lightweight, Schuldig remembered wryly. Ah, the fun of pimping out the wide eyed boy to jaded business men, paying half before and half after when after never came.

"I think I have a boy brain," Nagi announced. Schuldig pried a bottle from his fingers and took contemplative swallows as Nagi went on. "I watched this program where they showed that there are differences between boy brains and girl brains once, right, and they showed how they could get mixed up. Testosterone, you see."

"So, like with transsexuals and hermaphrodites?" Schuldig asked.

"_Intersex_," Nagi said scornfully. "Not allowed to use that other word any more."

"Political Correctness sucks, and you can tell it that from me," Schuldig grinned lazily.

Nagi laughed and rolled on to his side to look at Schuldig. "You'd think they'd change my brain too, wouldn't you?" he said.

"Bit risky, that," Schuldig offered.

"Guess so," Nagi sighed.

"So, why do you think you have a male brain?" Schuldig prompted.

"Because I want lots and lots of sex," Nagi said glumly.

Schuldig burst out laughing. "Oh, kid, that's just a teenage brain!"

Nagi considered this. "Give me more alcohol," he said eventually. "Too much of this makes sense for me to be drunk enough." He sat up unsteadily.

Schuldig handed him the bottle. "How are you feeling?" he asked sympathetically.

"Why are you here?" Nagi countered.

"It's my room," Schuldig grinned. "Expand."

Nagi puffed up his cheeks, but ruined it by laughing at himself. Schuldig chuckled too. He moved to lie down on the bed next to Nagi, and the boy gave up his bottle to lie next to him. Schuldig rolled onto his side and draped an arm over Nagi, who responded calmly. It took a moment for Schuldig to recognise the feeling of Nagi's new breasts pressed against his own chest. It reminded him that his own brain had certain adolescent tendencies of its own. Nagi was hot and dry and smelt of beer and expensive shampoo. He was small and needy and his head tucked perfectly beneath Schuldig's own like two jigsaw pieces.

"It's weird," Nagi sighed into Schuldig's chest. "All this stuff I want to do. Stuff I take offence at. Why can't this body be more like mine?"

"It is yours," Schuldig sighed, breath ruffling Nagi's fine hair. "What do you want to do?"

"I told you," Nagi scowled. "Have lots and lots of sex."

Schuldig reached out to Nagi's mind. Chronically screwed up, as usual. Not identifying his physical desires as his own right now. Not even identifying his thoughts as his own, at times. For example, Nagi couldn't possibly believe that he would go to Schwarz for _comfort_. He had to be here for some other reason. Or the body had hijacked him. Or something.

Schuldig squeezed Nagi to him. "It's easy to be around familiar people when unfamiliar things happen," he told Nagi. "Besides, you've dealt with more crazy stuff as Schwarz than you have with Kritiker. Of course you want to be here."

Nagi wrapped his arms around Schuldig's neck. "What if I change?" he asked in a small voice.

That question making no sense to him, Schuldig skipped it and went back to an earlier point. "Are you horny, Nagi? Is that what you were trying to tell me earlier?"

Nagi raised his head and gave Schuldig a very patronising look. "Which bit of 'I want lots and lots of sex' _did_ you understand?" he asked scathingly.

Schuldig laughed. "Fine, you're horny. Why haven't you dealt with it? You're getting just a bit obsessed, if I may say."

"You may not," Nagi pouted. "I don't know how girls deal with this. I couldn't make anything happen."

"How hard did you try?" Schuldig asked rhetorically. He held Nagi close again. If he'd been anything other than amoral, this would have presented a moral dilemma. As it was, all Schuldig had to worry about was how pissed Brad was going to be. Nagi writhed against him and he found a clumsy kiss planted on his lips. He was reminded how painfully little experience Nagi had in this field. Perhaps it really was about time someone showed him 'the way'.

Schuldig rolled Nagi onto his back and kissed him hard. Nagi was either too drunk or too scared to do anything more than open his mouth and let Schuldig in. Schuldig pulled back.

"I'm going to show you how to deal," he said, "but you've got to co-operate. I thought you were horny?"

Nagi blushed.

"Goddamn shy virgin," Schuldig smirked. "Look, I won't besmirch your precious purity, okay?" He wiggled his fingers in Nagi's face. Nagi's eyes widened in surprise and narrowed in anticipation. When his breathing began to quicken Schuldig plunged in for another kiss, wet but well-intentioned.

Schuldig slipped into Nagi's mind for a bit of anticipatory action. It was the easy way to be the best someone had ever had, though Nagi didn't really have anyone to compare him with. His readiness shocked Schuldig slightly. Dispensing with any other foreplay, Schuldig's hand disappeared into Nagi's trousers. Nagi groaned and wriggled. Schuldig eventually had to get rid of the trousers altogether as Nagi proved harder than expected to satisfy, even for the skilled German. He couldn't imagine how frustrating it must have been for Nagi, those hot feelings throbbing so low and so out of reach.

Female orgasm was strange, Schuldig mused, as Nagi finally arrived. Experiencing it through someone else's mind had to be slightly warped but Nagi would be able to make a direct comparison. And then there was that whole business of multiple orgasms.

Schuldig loved being a telepath sometimes.

Nagi was putty in his arms when he came back to himself. He grimaced at the stain in his trousers and levered Nagi onto the bed. The thoroughly drunk and completely satisfied girl slept soundly. Schuldig couldn't resist a quick hair ruffle. Lying like that in t-shirt and damp panties Nagi looked like the girl he was, and Schuldig couldn't fault his effeminacy.

Schuldig dug out another pair of trousers from the pile of washing mentally dubbed 'clean enough to get away with for short periods'. He sniffed his shirt and pulled it off, draping it over Nagi. He couldn't even remember buying the gauzy thing. Probably drunk, he figured. His fashion instincts tended to whittle down to 'ooh, shiny!' at times like that.

Crawford was watching an old horror film when Schuldig sauntered back into the main room. At Crawford's sharp look Schuldig explained, "He's sleeping," and settled beside him.

"I don't think that was wise," Crawford said stiffly.

"You have no idea how much he needed that," Schuldig sighed. "Imagine being around someone you lust after all day every day and yet not be able to indulge a single fantasy because the frustration would overwhelm you. Hell, imagine not being able to masturbate. That pretty much sums it up."

"He has a 'thing' for someone at Kritiker?" Crawford said softly. "I don't really need to bother guessing, do I?"

"I figure that's what brought all of this on," Schuldig sighed.

"Ah yes, your theory. Go on."

"Nagi brought this on himself," Schuldig said simply.

"How?" Brad asked, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Schuldig shrugged. "Give himself a bit of freedom, maybe? His subconscious is a mess. I think maybe it's the only way he can see of getting Tsukiyono into bed. It seemed logical at the time, and he was under stress."

"You think he subconsciously changed sex, when he can't consciously so much as change his hair colour?" Crawford said sceptically.

"Tot's still alive," Schuldig said.

"Ah."

"Yes. Would be nice if he'd mentioned this little talent before, you know?"

"Yes. I wonder why he didn't."

"He seems to be getting insanely powerful recently. There's not much left he can't do."

"Do you think he's blocking his powers, or has he altered himself too much to use them?"

"That's the sixty four million dollar question."

Crawford grimaced at the reference to his country's pop culture. Schuldig smirked at him and wandered away. Crawford hadn't expected him to return, but he did, with a bowl of chips and a pot of dip to boot. He set them between the two of them on the couch and sprawled out to watch the film. Occasionally he would make comments about the film, playing at Mystery Science Theatre until Crawford reminded him that, unlike the robots, he wasn't being forced to watch this. After a while, he began to snicker softly to himself.

"I'm not going to ask, you know," Crawford said pointedly.

Schuldig grinned at him. "It's so messily domestic, isn't it?" he said without further prompting. "Imagine if Weiss could see us now. Big Bad Schwarz watching Dracula's Bride's Second Cousin's Pet's In-laws and getting crumbs everywhere."

"You're not, are you?" Crawford asked. Schuldig laughed and flicked dip at him. Crawford bit back a smile, but Schuldig could sense his amusement anyway. "Unfortunately, this can't last," he sighed wearily. "Nagi's keeper is going to drop by soon, and it would be for the best if you were out of sight."

"I'm not running away for that Takatori's sake," Schuldig warned.

"Then do it for mine and Nagi's," Crawford told him. "And especially yours."

"What can he do to me?" Schuldig muttered, but he stood up anyway.

"If you want, you can go and get some food," Crawford dug his wallet out of his jacket pocket. "We've got nothing to eat for tonight."

"Is Nagi staying?" Schuldig asked.

Crawford thought forwards. "No," he sighed.

"I really don't like that boy," Schuldig grumbled.

"Nagi does," Crawford pointed out.

"And don't I know it." Schuldig took Crawford's wallet from him, sniffed at the contents and shoved it into one of his own pockets. "I guess I'll see you later."

"Hopefully," Crawford said dryly.

"Yeah," Schuldig shrugged. Any opportunity for further conversation was cut off by the closing door. Crawford turned back to the television, but it had lost its appeal now.


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

_A/N:_ _Eheheh... Guess who entirely forgot about this? I've got nearly all of it written, as well. There's just a few points where I'm not keen on the pacing, a little like here. I use chapters as an excuse to jump through time and not deal with Nagi dealing. I may rewrite or add chapters later on. Anyway, that was why I originally put off updating, then life got in the way and it wasn't until I suddenly started getting reviews that I realised I'd left it half finished, having promised to update it all within a week. Oops. Anyway, hopefully I won't forget again. If I do, email, or review, or poke the livejournal. Considering I've already promised someone a sequel, I can hardly abandon this one._

_(Oh, incidentally, is sudden influx of reviews a coincidence, or did someone rec this half-finished shambles somewhere? Just curious)  
_**  
**

Nagi raised the revolver and shot the man twice in the head before he could even get out from behind his desk. His companion dealt with the bodyguards calmly and efficiently.

It had been what, three weeks now? It had taken him a week to admit to his colleagues that his telekinetic powers seemed to be absent. At first, he had been assigned to work with Weiss, but even powerless Nagi found himself unable to work at their level. It was... it was arrogance, and he knew it. Maybe he had been doing this longer, maybe he did have a more impressive reputation, maybe he could claim to lack that conscience which still inhibited them, but none made effective arguments against Mamoru's cold glare.

To his surprise, though, Mamoru had conceded the point and allowed him to work with other members of the organization instead. Namely, Persia himself.

"You couldn't work with them either," Nagi had accused him with a smirk.

"Maybe I just missed working altogether," Mamoru had chided him.

Nagi fought the constant distraction his partner provided him with a determined professionalism. He found it hard to breathe sometimes, and his heart beat so loud in his ears that he couldn't always hear the instructions in his ear piece. One night, after a particularly good kill, he'd given in to what he was sure was a perverse impulse and tried masturbating with his revolver. He'd wished for Schuldig's expertise anyway, and the cleaning the gun had required afterwards made him snicker every time he thought of it. If nothing else, that proved to him he was still an eighteen year old boy.

Pressed back to back with Mamoru, firing down adjoined corridors, he felt his knees weaken. He heard Mamoru moan and wondered if he was fooling himself in thinking he was pressing against him harder. Mamoru's hand, the one not grasping the gun, reached around Nagi and dipped towards his crotch. Nagi bit his lip hard. Mamoru's questing fingers brushed sensitive places and Nagi was reminded again that perhaps Schuldig was right in claiming the trousers were too tight. His partner's fingers reached their destination at last and pulled a clip from Nagi's belt compartment.

The last three guards collapsed, but Nagi's watched alerted them with a shrill beep that their time was already up. The first explosion was in the basement of the building, making the whole structure shake violently. As the ground floor walls blew outwards the young men found themselves falling sharply. Nagi felt Mamoru's arms surround him and his fall was abruptly halted as Mamoru grabbed a broken pipe. Their relief was short lived as the first and second floor explosives went off simultaneously. They were blown sideways, slamming into a disintegrating wall, but Mamoru didn't let go.

They still had several stories worth of fall left, and another three floors of explosives. Nagi squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to a god he hadn't believed in since the Catholic orphanage he'd grown up in had been destroyed before his eyes. His head hurt insanely and lights flashed on the inside of his eyelids. White noise filled his ears and in the far distance he heard another explosion. As they fell and flew amongst the crumbling rubble Nagi blacked out.

* * *

Nagi came round maybe only seconds later. They were lying a short distance from the still falling building. Mamoru's arms were still tight around him.

Teleportation. Nagi couldn't work out how he'd done it.

"Prodigy?"

"Mgh."

"Alive, then." Mamoru loosened his grip and sat up. "Did you teleport us?"

"Mgh," Nagi repeated, refusing to move. He had a migraine to rival any previous one, and the lights of Tokyo burned his eyes. There was still ringing in his ears, and every limb was suffused with pins and needles of such exquisite agony. Mamoru's fingers caressing his skin made the pounding in his head worse, but he felt he could tolerate that.

"Prodigy, your clothes are still smouldering," Mamoru said, voice strained.

It occurred to Nagi that Mamoru was stroking his stomach, which ought to have been swathed in jacket and t-shirt. Despite the screaming objection of his limb, he raised a hand to shade his eyes so that he could open them. Mamoru's fingers moved slowly up and down his bare stomach, occasionally brushing the lower curve of Nagi's small breasts. Nagi's breath hitched in his throat, and Mamoru's hand froze.

Nagi's jacket had been shredded by the shrapnel of the building. Blocks were still falling around them, though none of them hit the couple. Mamoru's fingers moved to pinch out the smouldering edges of Nagi's t-shirt, which had not only been ripped and burnt but also wrinkled upwards by Mamoru's cradling arm. Nagi's trousers were not in any better state, though his modesty was better preserved. As his back was still covered, he suspected Mamoru's front would be, though he suspected the back of Mamoru's coat and trousers were in an equally poor state.

As his eyes adjusted to the light of the Tokyo night, multiplied by the burning remains of the building, Nagi lowered his hand and reached down his own body, as fascinated as Mamoru by his revealed nipple. It was dark, and hard. Goosebumps freckled his breast. His breath was coming in short gasps and he could feel the heat between his legs. He could feel, against his lower back, a dissimilar heat.

A car pulled up beside them.

"Persia, Prodigy," Rex called from the driver's seat.

Persia climbed unsteadily to his feet and pulled Nagi up with him. Nagi met Rex's eyes, half expecting derision or jealousy in her eyes. Instead, there was a smug satisfaction. Both assassins stumbled into the back of the car.

"We received additional intelligence after your departure relating to a tip off," Rex explained. "The target was aware of Kritiker's attentions and called for extra protection."

"We gathered," Persia said dryly.

Nagi pulled a blanket around himself, wincing as it brushed burnt or bruised skin. Under the tent he made for himself he ran a hand across his breast before. Something between his legs pulsed. He wasn't... he wasn't a he, was he?

Nagi withdrew her hand from the blanket and began to search through the first aid kit Rex had placed on the back seat.

* * *

"He's coming to terms with it," Schuldig commented, lighting a cigarette on the smouldering remains of a deceased bodyguard. "We're going to have to find Nagi a girl's name soon. He's admitting that the body is still his own, or her own. I'm guessing that's how she managed the teleport, though I imagine self-preservation played a role too."

"What, no comment as to Mamoru's attentions?" Crawford smirked at him.

Schuldig ground his teeth.

"Bastard's not good enough for our little girl," he said, apparently sincere.

The car pulled up in front of them, the driver's eyes completely blank. Schuldig found himself missing the intractable Manx at times like this. Rex wasn't even aware of what was happening to her, let alone able to defend herself against it. She climbed out of the car obediently and Schuldig slid past her to take her place. Crawford rode shotgun.

As he stared out of the windscreen, Crawford deigned to explain the purpose of this exercise. Neither young assassin in the back seat seemed particularly upset. Schuldig suppose being almost killed could sap the emotions like that.

"We're sorry we have to do this," Crawford said crisply, "but the more traditional methods seemed to be made unavailable to us."

Schuldig hadn't been aware that they'd tried 'more traditional methods' of getting in touch. He supposed Crawford had phoned, once at most, and decided this was preferable.

"We wish to discuss Nagi's condition," Crawford went on.

"We want you to quit feeling him up when he's barely conscious," Schuldig added.

Nagi's eyes widened in the rearview mirror.

"I... I never..." Mamoru stuttered before remembering himself. "I don't need to dignify that accusation with a reply."

_Is there something I should know?_ Nagi asked Schuldig.

_Aside from the fact we were watching that lovely little display of public affection?_ Schuldig smirked, knowing that if he could see Nagi's reflection Nagi could see his. Though, on reflection, if he could see Nagi's reflection he couldn't see out of the back of the car, which was the whole point behind having a mirror in the first place. He contemplated adjusting it, and decided against.

_Schul-dig,_ Nagi wheedled.

_You're a girl, remember,_ Schuldig pointed out. _You're going to screw yourself over no matter what answer I give._

_That's sexist._

_No,_ Schuldig sighed mentally. _I mean you're going to wonder if it's your gender, or if it's you._

_Oh. Yes._

_Yes. See, Uncle Schuldig's not so misogynistic, is he?_

Nagi chuckled quietly. _Yeah right_.

Schuldig could feel Mamoru's curiosity, but no more than that. The young man had constructed some pretty good mental barriers over the years. Humanity, though was infinitely predictable.

"We're not talking about _you_," Schuldig said, just loud enough for Mamoru to hear. He received the mental equivalent of an elbow to the ribs from Crawford. Apparently they needed Mamoru nice and relaxed and not focussing on Schuldig's telepathy or history or general personality.

"If you wanted a crash test dummy to drive, you should have brought your own," Schuldig muttered. Crawford placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, making the holster under Schuldig's coat dig into the skin. It would be in the wrong position now, and rub every time he changed gears. Schuldig realised he hadn't even registered that the car was a stick-shift, and smirked through the windscreen. No wonder Crawford was making him drive; the man always managed to produce the kind of grating sounds Schuldig associated with Rosenkreuz torture rooms when required to acknowledge the presence of a clutch.

"Persia, you are aware of Prodigy's condition." Not a question. Hence, no answer. Schuldig had forgotten how much he hated watching other people play these games. He could feel Nagi's impatience and irritation seeping through the psychic membrane too, which didn't help his mood. "You are aware that it may be permanent."

"Our medical staff said 'probable'."

"The only experience your medical staff have with Psys is Prodigy himself. Even e is relatively inexperienced."

"We will not be beholden to you."

"Is that the Royal We?" Schuldig put in before he could think, and hence before Crawford could foresee. "Only, Nagi owes us a hell of a lot. He'd be dead otherwise. Many times over."

"Schul-dig," Nagi groaned.

"Whiner."

"-" Nagi was physically elbowed in the ribs, much to Schuldig's satisfaction. He curled up in pain, and guilt poured from Mamoru, though outwardly one wouldn't know it. Just as well Nagi had that little bit of empath in him, Schuldig decided. The relationship was dysfunctional enough already without those kind of misunderstandings.

"We have come to believe Nagi caused this himself," Crawford announced. "There is a less common branch of psychokinesis - a micro-bio bias - that would allow him to do such things. As with his macro-telekinesis, it has manifested due to a subconscious urge. However, the cause, unlike Tot's 'death'," Schuldig could hear the quotes and wondered if the others could too, "is not immediately obvious."

"I... see."

"Obviously, Mastermind is the most prominent tool in discovering the cause of this change."

Schuldig knew Crawford must have known that was a dangerous statement, as much from knowing Mamoru as from his gift. Which meant Crawford was banking on that reaction, and had some plan that depended on it.

"Prodigy in an employee of Kritiker. I can not allow him to associate with known terrorists." Mamoru had a coldness of tone and stiffness of mind Schuldig generally associated with Abyssinian. This was fun.

"Weiss were known terrorists," Crawford reminded him gently.

"They are also Kritiker employees."

"So are we."

Crawford signalled for Schuldig to pull over, outside the main Kritiker building. He switched the engine off and listened with his ears to a silence his mind insisted was louder than most crowds.

"You are not under my employ." Cold. Sharp. Suspicious. Smart boy, Schuldig reminded himself.

"We are under your grandfather's."

"Nevertheless, I can not allow you to take Prodigy from us until I receive written confirmation of that, along with instructions to do so."

"Of course."

Mamoru climbed out of the car, and Nagi followed with barely a hesitation. Schuldig prepared to turn the engine back on when he noticed Crawford opening his door as well. He shot the older man a quizzical look.

"It's not our car."

"Fuck that."

"Come on." Crawford stood ouotside the car, face invisible but tone placating. Mind? Flavour of the day was smug.

"If you think I'm taking public transport..." Schuldig growled.

"Have you looked at where we are?"

Grudgingly, Schuldig climbed out of the driver's seat. He glanced at Crawford, then turned in the direction he was looking. On the opposite side of the road stood the building that housed their apartment.

"You're enjoying yourself far too much this evening," Schuldig told his partner.

"I know." Crawford smiled. "Now Mamoru knows the situation, he will keep Nagi by his side, forcing some kind of resolution. Not only that, but his trust in his grandfather will falter."

"And we live opposite them, and got a free ride home."

They exchanged a look.

"For me, politics, mindgames and a peaceful resolution. For you, petty victories," Crawford said.

"'If everybody looked the same, we'd get tired of looking at each other'," Schuldig grinned. "You want to make the day complete and order dinner on the purple girl's credit card?"

"Yes. Yes I do."


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

Mamoru felt himself sailing through the air. Moments later the building collapsed on itself, but it wasn't the force of the explosion which sent him hurtling backwards. He hit the road surprisingly gently, rolling backwards to get to his feet instinctively. He was beginning to remember why he left this work to his employees now. He was learning that buildings had a tendency to collapse around Nagi.

Who had to be alive, didn't he? Mamoru knew from experience that he was the only one who could have done that. He scanned the billowing dust desperately. Slowly it parted, a gaseous red sea, and a slim female form stepped between the clouds. It took all of Mamoru's self control not to fling his arms around his employee.

Nagi joined him at the side of the road, trying to hide his excitement. Mamoru smiled encouragingly.

"Are you alright?" Nagi asked softly.

"I'm fine," Mamoru nodded. "Thanks to you, yes?"

"I didn't know if I'd be able to do it again," Nagi admitted, looking nervous. "That might have been instinctive. It all seems to be, right now."

"Try something else," Mamoru suggested.

A pebble rose to eye height and Nagi broke into a wide smile. Mamoru couldn't help but grin as well. He pulled out his phone to call for a limo back to the main Kritiker building, then put it away again. Nagi frowned at him.

"I want to walk," Mamoru explained simply. Nagi followed him obediently as they began to make their way through the near empty streets. They probably, Mamoru realised, looked like they'd been crawling through chimneys, but that had its advantages as people made a point of not looking.

They still had maybe an hour's walk left when it began to rain. Mamoru had noticed goosebumps on Nagi's bare arms already, but as the rain got heavier the girl began to shiver. The shirt was thin, and pale, and Mamoru realised with an abrupt blush that he could see Nagi's hard nipples through it. Nagi caught the glance and looked down, suddenly wrapping his arms around the body he was still struggling to accept as his.

Mamoru sighed and pulled off his coat, gesturing for Nagi to stop. Unusually for the proud telekinetic he didn't object as the heavy garment was draped around his shoulders. Her shoulders.

"Why-" Mamoru stopped himself, blushing.

"What?" Nagi asked.

"I shouldn't ask. It's too personal," Mamoru said awkwardly. "Not polite."

"Not polite to ask a girl?" Nagi asked wryly. "Don't forget who I am. Go on, ask," he insisted.

"Uh, I was wondering why," Mamoru grimaced, "you weren't wearing a, um, bra."

Nagi's expression darkened. "That was too personal," he said coolly.

Mamoru sighed. Now he was getting cold as well, and he could feel water running down the back of his neck and making his loose shirt stick. They stood facing each other in the middle of the street, in the rain, and it just seemed so stupid.

"I'm going to call for a car," Mamoru said firmly.

"I have an apartment near here," Nagi volunteered abruptly. "It would be quicker than waiting for a car."

"How many apartments do you have?" Mamoru asked bemusedly as Nagi led the way.

"This is the only one that's mine," Nagi told him. "I have a place to stay with Crawford and Schuldig, and a place to stay with Kritiker, but this is my place."

"I see," Mamoru said, and he did.

As they walked, Nagi began to talk again. "I keep expecting to turn back," he said softly. "Just as suddenly as I changed. No, I don't expect it," he corrected himself, "but I want it very badly. That's why I'm not wearing a bra; don't own any, in fact. It would imply that this is a bit more long term than I can deal with at the moment."

"Isn't it uncomfortable?" Mamoru asked before he could stop himself.

"I have very small breasts," Nagi said dryly. "It's not really much of a problem, especially if I wear tighter clothes." He snorted. "It bothers me, and it's stupid. I can still pass for a guy. I'm still basically the same build I was before. I'm the same weight, even."

"It's not stupid," Mamoru said awkwardly.

"That would be more comforting if you could back that up," Nagi told him. "Otherwise it's just a lie."

They rode the lift in silence, Mamoru marvelling at how high Nagi had chosen his 'place'. It made for a long and awkward trip, but Mamoru was beginning to realise that any interaction with Nagi was awkward. Even the other members of Schwarz seemed at a loss as to how to handle him.

Nagi's apartment was small and neat. Main room, bedroom, bathroom. Simple furniture, no mess, a western edge to the décor. Nothing on the walls at all, not even shelves or cupboards.

Nagi gave Mamoru a very calculating stare. Mamoru frowned at him.

"I might have some clothes that will fit you, if you want to change," Nagi said eventually. "I'm going to change."

"I think I'll be alright," Mamoru said.

"Okay. Make yourself comfortable," Nagi shrugged and disappeared.

The sofa was a military grey and rather more comfortable than it looked, though the material was slightly itchy. It sat awkwardly in the centre of the room, facing nothing in particular. It was the only seat in the room, and long enough for a person to sleep on easily. Mamoru made a mental note to ask Nagi if he could stay over. There wasn't much point calling anyone out at this time.

Nagi reappeared wearing a long skirt and Schuldig's obnoxious shirt. He was carrying chocolate in one hand and he offered Mamoru a chunk as he settled himself at the opposite end of the sofa.

"Schuldig thinks that the fact I can use my powers again suggests that I'm beginning to accept that this really is my body," he said. He tugged self consciously on his skirt. "I don't see how."

"I don't understand," Mamoru admitted.

Nagi shook his head. "This isn't my body," he said, voice shaking slightly. "I can't let it be my body." He sniffed. "Sorry. I'm cold and tired and female."

"You've had it really rough recently," Mamoru commiserated.

Nagi sniffed again and rubbed at his eyes. "I really hate all this. Strange hormones all the time. I swear real women aren't _this_ bad. Everything's a battle. I don't understand anything and I keep feeling things I'm not used to and for some reason I'm actually _talking_ to people about it and I'm acting like a complete stranger and..." His voice cracked. "And I'm eating chocolate and wearing skirts and trying to be more like a girl and that doesn't work any better than trying to pretend I'm not!" He looked like he was about to flee when Mamoru snaked down the sofa and wrapped strong arms around him. To his surprise Nagi actually accepted the embrace, melting into it and sobbing against an already damp shirt.

When the tears stopped Nagi didn't move. Mamoru stroked his hair and Nagi pressed closer, small and warm. They breathed together.

Eventually, because someone had to say something at some point, Nagi commented, "Do you see what I mean about acting not like me?"

Mamoru nodded. "But," he said softly, "have you ever wanted to act like this?"

Nagi pulled back slightly to get a better look at his face. This close Mamoru could see the dark smudges under his eyes and realised how serious Nagi was about being tired. He felt guilty immediately.

"Yes," Nagi breathed.

"But you didn't follow through," Mamoru murmured.

"I couldn't," Nagi swallowed. "It was weakness." He looked confused at his own words.

"But it's not weak for girls to cry and talk and be emotional?" Mamoru raised an eyebrow.

"It's not that kind of weak," Nagi protested feebly. "Rosenkreuz weak. But... yes."

"So, if Schuldig's right and you did do this to yourself," Mamoru spoke thoughtfully, "then perhaps it was a way for you to release everything you've been afraid to? An acceptable release?"

Nagi leant back against Mamoru's chest. "Is it acceptable?" he asked in a small voice.

Mamoru hugged him tightly. "Yes," he said firmly. "No matter what gender you are." He could feel Nagi's small, and still unrestrained, breasts pressing against his chest. The fabrics separating chest from breast were thin and Mamoru wondered if it was true that small breasts were more sensitive.

"I like being close," Nagi sighed. "I never do this."

"I like it too," Mamoru said unthinkingly.

Nagi raised his head to look at Mamoru again, and they found themselves very close. It was a moment that could have gone either way, and neither knew who had pushed it the way it went, but the moment ended with a kiss. Tentative at first, but warming and exploring and comforting as it grew. Nagi moved in Mamoru's lap to get a better angle. Mamoru could feel the slender body tremble slightly. He pulled it close and broke the kiss to concentrate on the embrace.

"This is a bad idea," he breathed against Nagi's neck. Nagi squirmed slightly, making Mamoru gasp.

"So?" Nagi smiled. "Omi, I want this, and I know you do."

Mamoru managed not to flinch at the name. It meant more to Nagi to use it, the same way Crawford called him Bombay with more respect than he ever would Persia. And besides, the need in Nagi's voice was so blatant and exposed and Schuldig's words about vulnerability came back to him and a surge of jealousy hit him.

"Nagi," Mamoru said more firmly.

"Omi, please," Nagi breathed and leaned in to kiss him again. This one lasted longer, to the complaint of neither.

Again, it was Mamoru who broke it. "I promise I won't do anything improper," he managed. "I won't let this go too far," he tried to clarify.

Nagi's playful pout let him know that this was as serious as he'd hoped and he fell into the next kiss much more easily.

* * *

Nagi could feel Mamoru's breath tickling the back of his neck. It was warm, like the arm draped possessively over his side. Nagi grinned into the pillow and pressed back closer. He felt so satisfied he thought he ought to be glowing and blushed at the thought. And did that count as losing his virginity, even if Schuldig had 'explored' before?

The thought brought a familiar tingle back, and Nagi breathed deeply at all of the memories. One hand crept down and found himself, semi-hard.

Nagi stopped breathing.

All coherent thought left him. The hand came up again to confirm that the breasts were gone as well. Choking sobs tried to seize him, but he screwed his eyes shut against them and held his breath until he was certain he had it under control. Next to him Mamoru slept on.

Everything that had constituted a dream was wrenched away from him. He'd been given everything he'd asked for. How he explain the sheer horror of that? Mamoru wouldn't understand why he wanted to curl up and die.

Nagi bit his lip, hard, to hold back the tears. He had to savour every moment he had now. He couldn't waste these last minutes, as dark as they were. Last night he'd had what he wanted, even if it was nothing like how he had wanted it. He wasn't fool enough to believe that it could be recreated now.

Mamoru had to be right. The female body had been his subconscious way of ensuring that he got to do what he wanted. And now he had, so he had given himself his male body back. Except he still wanted more, didn't he? Why couldn't his subconscious understand that? He'd be happily female forever if it meant he had Mamoru forever. Even if he didn't have Mamoru, he'd still have those different inhibitions. He could cry and cuddle and be vulnerable. And throw real hissy fits at Rex, though he'd never really held back anyway, either gender.

Nagi looked down at his new cage.

"Nagi?" a sleepy voice made his heart constrict. "Is something wrong?"

Nagi couldn't bring himself to answer. Mamoru propped himself up on one elbow, concern on his face. Nagi could feel him leaning over. He wondered if Mamoru thought he regretted last night. The fierceness with which he rejected that idea scared him slightly. He rolled onto his back so he could look up at Mamoru.

"Nagi?" Mamoru was still frowning.

"In the flesh," Nagi choked out. He glanced down the length of his body and Mamoru's eyes finally widened in realisation as he saw the beginnings of a bulge beneath the sheets.

"Oh, Nagi," Mamoru's voice was unsure.

Nagi rolled away from him and sat up, back to last night's lover. It was too much now, and he started to cry uncontrollably. He could feel Mamoru moving across the bed and jerked away as the older boy reached out for him. When Mamoru tried again Nagi darted across the room and slumped in the doorway.

"Nagi," Mamoru's voice was thick. "Nagi, what's wrong?"

"I, I just need to, to adjust again," Nagi managed. "Please."

"Why won't you let me touch you?" Mamoru asked.

"I need to adjust," Nagi clung to his excuse, voice shooting up in pitch. "Please go!"

"I don't want to," Mamoru said.

"Go away!" Nagi panted. "Please, Mamoru, go away!"

"Nagi," Mamoru sounded angry now. What right did he have to be angry? He couldn't possibly understand. "I'm not going anywhere until you've calmed down," he said firmly.

Nagi swiped a fist across his eyes and stared blearily at the naked young man in his bed. He made an effort to keep his voice steady. "I want to be alone, Mamoru. Can't you respect that? I'm struggling. I have to readjust. Please just let me be alone. I don't want you here."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Mamoru demanded.

"Go away!" Nagi begged.

"Don't you screw with me!" Mamoru snapped suddenly. Nagi shrank back through the door. "You can't do this to me!"

"Leave me alone!" Nagi shrieked, pushed over the edge as well. The bed Mamoru was one began to shake wildly and he scrambled off hurriedly. No wonder Nagi didn't have any ornaments or shelves. "Leave me alone now!" Nagi screamed at him. "I don't want you here! I don't!"

Mamoru gathered his flying clothes with as much dignity as he could muster. "Fine," he said in a hard voice.

Nagi didn't give him a chance to dress, flinging him out of the small apartment in a thunderstorm of furniture and fixtures. The door slammed with a final boom, and everything went quiet.

In the safety of his room, Nagi collapsed to the floor. Curled on the hardwood boards, he silently wept.


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**

Mamoru stared at the plain door. He felt slightly queasy, but this had to be done. He needed to talk to Nagi properly. It would probably end up with Nagi being fired from Kritiker, but at least that would have some sense of closure. He knocked slowly.

He wasn't angry anymore. That was important. He clung to that. He could kid himself that he'd been so angry he'd misinterpreted something last time. He'd been angry enough to scare Nagi into reacting so violently.

He forced back the treacherous reasons for his anger. They weren't reasonable reasons. He knocked again.

He'd been on the verge of tears last time, he remembered distantly. Three days ago now. Nagi hadn't come to work or called during that time. As far as Mamoru knew, he hadn't done anything. Well, the switch must have come as something of a shock.

Mamoru raised his hand to knock again and froze. Nagi had been absolutely distraught last time he saw him, three days ago. Mamoru stared at the blank door with a growing sense of dread. Gripping the handle tightly he put a shoulder to the door and shoved. No luck. He leant away and slammed against it. No luck. He took a step away and decided to use the other shoulder this time. The door opened.

"I liked it better when you were knocking," a thin voice floated through the sliver of air. "Go away."

Mamoru pushed the door open and found no resistance. Nagi was curled up on the couch, dressed in the grey uniform Mamoru remembered from years ago. That was interesting. His sheer relief at finding Nagi alive was enough to propel him over to the teen, kneeling in front of him. Their heads were level, but Nagi turned his away to avoid eye-contact.

"It's been three days," Mamoru said. His voice wasn't as firm as he would have liked. Maybe his flip-flopping stomach was interfering with his diaphragm. "I think that's time enough to 'readjust'."

"It hasn't been long enough," Nagi said petulantly. "Go away."

"I'm not going to listen to that," Mamoru warned. "And I think it's fair that I at least get an explanation as for _why_ you want to get rid of me so much."

Nagi looked uncomfortable. "A lot's happened to me recently. I can't get my head around what's happening to _me_, so I really can't let anyone else get involved. I'll go mad."

Mamoru reached out and cupped his hand under Nagi's chin, gently guiding Nagi around to face him. "You're not going mad," he said softly. "You can cope with this."

"You don't understand," Nagi insisted.

Mamoru sighed and stopped caring about understanding. He leant in and kissed Nagi firmly on the lips. There was a moment of no response, and then Nagi was opening his mouth and pressing against Mamoru. The kiss was hard and relieved. Mamoru stood carefully, never taking his mouth from Nagi's, and the younger man stood as well, wrapping arms around Mamoru's neck. There was a slight tentativeness there, which thrilled Mamoru. That attractive vulnerability again.

Mamoru held Nagi tight, breathing hard against him and kissing as deeply as he could, tongue exploring roughly. Nagi whimpered. When Mamoru pushed him back down against the couch he broke the kiss and made some sound Mamoru didn't register as he worked on the front of Nagi's shirt. Nagi writhed desperately, and Mamoru matched the movements. He descended for another kiss. Nagi ducked his head away.

"Stop," Nagi said breathily. "God, stop."

"You don't want me to," Mamoru grinned confidently. He nipped at Nagi's neck.

"No," Nagi moaned. "Stop."

"When you say it like you mean it," Mamoru teased, sliding hands inside Nagi's shirt and fastening his mouth over Nagi's again. Nagi was hard beneath him. Everything was perfect. Nagi was responding helplessly and whatever had been the matter was over now.

Nagi broke the kiss again. "Mamoru, stop. You're scaring me," he insisted.

"Stop," another voice said. Mamoru registered the cold press of a muzzle at the base of his skull.

"Schuldig," he snarled under his breath.

"Schuldig," Nagi echoed, apparently surprised.

"Get out, Tsukiyono," Schuldig said, voice flat and emotionless.

"That is not my name."

"It's who you are. It's who I'll kill if you don't start moving."

Mamoru pulled away from Nagi, feeling a pang of guilt at the relief in the younger boy's face. He'd been so thankful that Nagi was alive and well he hadn't paid any attention beyond that.

"One day, Mastermind, you will get your comeuppance."

"Tell me again in hell."

* * *

Nagi sat in the hotel room, staring out at the cityscape below him. The windows were stretched almost the entire length of the room. He was overlooking the river, not far from the Houses of Parliament. He could see the London Eye, a huge glowing circle that made him think of an oversized transmitter. 

Officially, he was acting as a liaison with The English branch of Kritiker. Since Siberian and Abyssinian had joined Weiss Side B, Mamoru had been working on keeping communications open and friendly. They'd only spoken briefly before he'd left, over the telephone, but those few words had left Nagi confused.

He hadn't expected Mamoru to still want him after he changed back. He certainly hadn't expected Mamoru to want him so much he wilfully ignored Nagi's own objections. He'd apologised, very tersely. Schuldig had muttered something about a lack of sincerity, but Nagi suspected Mamoru was still having difficulty dealing with his own actions.

Nagi didn't want to forgive him. He didn't want to see him for the rest of his life. He found himself wondering if he'd ever really wanted the other young man in the first place. Nagi had come to realise that Schuldig's protectiveness had meant a lot to him. And Schuldig was very attractive, and experienced, and understanding.

Mamoru was young and inexperienced and blundering his way through, just like Nagi. He'd brought Prodigy into Kritiker because he thought there was some bond between them, because he thought they could relate to each other and had something in common. The fact he had believed that had told Nagi Mamoru knew nothing about him, but now, as the pressures of politics and family and Kritiker bore down on him, similarities were beginning to emerge. Nagi wasn't sure he liked them.

A polite knock on the oak door startled Nagi from his self-destructive reverie. Passing furniture older than himself, he made his way over and opened the door, to find a young Asian porter, uniform neatly pressed and still smelling of detergent, holding out an envelope. It was addressed both in Kanji and the Roman alphabet, the former more neatly written and obviously the more familiar to the writer.

"Thank you," Nagi said, accepting it. He didn't tip.

The first page of the letter was taken up with business and formalities, a few more repeated apologies scattered throughout. It ended halfway through a sentence that was never finished. Nagi could imagine several written and discarded pages. He could see imprints of attempts on the second page, around the words actually written there. The final draft, though looking at it Nagi felt that perhaps it wasn't the polished product, but instead an act of defeat. The words crowded together and ink blots obscured half of them. Mistakes were crossed out and repeated and crossed out again to leave the phrase missing key words altogether. A splash at the bottom of the page still smelt faintly of sake, and Nagi wondered if Mamoru had even intended to send this version.

He let himself fall into a leather-bound chair, next to a leather-inlay desk. The chair was thick and overstuffed, creaking slightly under Nagi meagre weight and releasing a puff of scented air. Nagi had never had much respect for anything but the latest technology before, but this hotel was doing its best to change his mind. He switched on the desk lamp, creating a warm yellow pool of light in the otherwise indigo shaded room.

"You confuse me so much, Nagi. You call me 'Omi' like it's a good thing. You continually insult my grandfather to my face. You spent a significant amount of time trying to kill me, and you haven't so much as apologised for that. You've got the worst attitude of anyone I know.

"The confusing part is I respect you for all of it. You've got a kind of self-confidence I never obtained. You don't feel obliged to be nice. You don't even feel the need to make people like you. I can't imagine living like that. But I admire you. It was very strange to find out you don't admire yourself.

"I guess it's obvious I have feelings for you. I still can't work out whether you return them. I used to admire that stoic attitude you seemed to have picked up, but it's quite nice to know you feel like the rest of us mere mortals as well.

"You're the only person I know who can really understand my feelings on the next part. After Ouka died I stopped wanting to care for people, you see?"

"Yes," Nagi said softly. "There's no point in putting yourself through that, not if you don't need to."

_How do you know when you need to, though?_

Nagi turned his head, but he knew the room was empty.

_Having fun? _Nagi asked rhetorically. _Where are you tonight?_

_Crawford is treating me to dinner at the Ritz. Everyone's staring at us. I look gorgeous._

Nagi smiled at the picture Schuldig projected into his mind. Schuldig was wearing a slightly more expensive copy of the shirt Nagi had borrowed, a silky forest green, with white trousers and a white cravat. Reaching out of his own accord, moving through Schuldig, Nagi could feel the people around him. Crawford, cool and amused and enjoying himself immensely. The waiter, distasteful of foreigners but envious of those wealthy enough to dine there. Other guests, shocked and bemused, many wondering if the businessman and the flamboyant German were a couple.

_They're hoping we're not_, Schuldig informed him smugly. _They're all after my gorgeous body._

_Of course._

_You could have come too_, Schuldig pointed out. _Instead of sitting and moping in your dark apartment over your long lost lover boy._

Nagi couldn't find any words to contradict him. No truthful words, anyway.

_He wrote to me._

_I know, I've been reading over your shoulder. And I'd just like to make clear that I hate him, and if he ever lays a hand on you again I shall rip it off. Bastard Takatori._

_Literally._

Nagi closed down the link as best he could, making it clear to Schuldig that he was sitting and moping in his dark apartment because he wanted to sit and mope in his dark apartment. Though he'd probably meet Schuldig and Crawford in the cocktail bar downstairs later for a drink.

"When I realised I had, well, strong feelings for you, it scared me. I didn't want to go to that place again. Especially not if you weren't going to come too. I never knew if you were flirting or not. I just knew that I was going to disappoint grandfather terribly if I was inclined towards men. I took the risk though, when I thought, for a brief moment, that you might actually feel the same way. Now I'm not even sure if you're inclined the same way. I'm not even sure if I am.

"I'm screwed up, that's what I am, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped turning the screw. I just need some straight answers. I suspect you'd like some as well. I don't even know what happened between us any more. I thought I decided to make it happen, but now I wonder if instead I acquiesced to letting it happen. If I had known it would end like this, I would have called for transport that night. I don't want to regret it, Nagi. I just need to hear your side of the story."

The letter ended abruptly, any signature smudged beyond recognition by the sake. Nagi sighed and pulled his legs up under him, still using that position he'd only accepted as comfortable after his gender change. He placed the letter on the desk and turned the lamp off, shifting in his seat to look, once again, out of the window.

He felt as out of place in this city as he had in the female body. Foreign. But he'd grown used to that body. Maybe he could grow used to this. He could live in England, work with Weiss Side B, and never have to see Mamoru again. He could write a long letter and explain how events had transpired from where he had been standing. Was it cowardice or prudence?

There was another knock on the door. Nagi considered ignoring it for a moment, but chose eventually to welcome the distraction instead.

It was the porter again, though he came empty handed. He didn't say anything, either. Nagi frowned, and this time actually looked at him.

"Omi," he said, startled into old habits of tongue.

"I... I realised, after writing the letter, that I'd rather speak to you in person," Mamoru said hurriedly. "I don't want to receive a letter in reply. I shouldn't have sent you one. I'm sorry."

"Why did you bring it yourself, then?" Nagi asked, stepping back to let Mamoru in. He was operating on automatic, still in a state of mild shock.

"I was going to talk to you, but..." Mamoru shook his head.

"I understand," Nagi said softly.

They stood in the dark room, facing each other. Mamoru was wearing the neat blue and gold uniform of the hotel porters, looking a little like a soldier, or perhaps just the drummer boy. It suited him.

Nagi glanced down, reminding himself of his own clothes and wondering what Mamoru would make of them. The long sleeved navy blue top was standard fare, but the ankle length black skirt might be cause for comment.

"Are you..." Mamoru seemed unable to decide how to ask.

"No," Nagi said, shaking his head. "It's just... comfortable."

"It's good that you're comfortable," Mamoru said.

Nagi sighed and hid a smile. The sense of humour he'd inherited from Crawford made him want to take advantage of Mamoru's obvious distress. Or was that the sense of humour he'd inherited from Schuldig? He knew he'd picked up personality traits from both of them over the years, but as they got closer he was finding it harder to distinguish what came from who.

"What do you want me to say?" Nagi asked, moving to sit down by the desk again, and gesturing for Mamoru to take the overstuffed armchair by the bed. There was a definite overzealous approach taken to padding out the upholstery here.

"I just want to know what's going on. It's obvious I've been misreading everything" Mamoru said, not without bitterness.

Nagi nodded once. He paused, collecting his thoughts, then began to speak. "I thought you were very, very attractive and I would have liked to have more sex with you. I think your grandfather is evil. I think you don't know the first thing about who you are, so why you think you have a chance of figuring me out I have no idea." Nagi paused, taking in the look of horror on Mamoru's face. "I also think your grandfather is contributing to that," he added more thoughtfully. "Considering your past, you were surprisingly well balanced and secure until he came into your life. He's trying to tell you who to be, and part of you sees that new person as a dark beast, fit only to have its tomorrow hunted."

Mamoru smirked slightly at Nagi's mockery of the traditional routine, though his smile faded quickly.

"I think you're not in a position to judge familial relationships."

"Just because my family aren't blood relations, doesn't change the fact they're family," Nagi countered.

Mamoru looked confused for a moment. "Oh, Schwarz."

"Yes, Schwarz. In the same way you used to consider Weiss your family, before you abandoned them for blood."

"It's still different."

"I don't doubt it."

Mamoru sighed. "Okay, well, thank you. You have reassured me on several points. Pity about the past tense," he added wryly.

Nagi offered him a self-deprecating smile. "Everything changed."

"Yes, it did. I'd like to know what it changed from, and to, though. I think that's important."

Nagi grimaced. "I'm still figuring it out. Schuldig really helped me, you know. Being female gave me more freedom. I could do all of those things I never dared to and blame it on being female. And not just things I'd never dared to. I was a stranger, you see? I was a foreigner, taking advantage of the fact that I'd never be in that place again, never meet the people I met there back in my daily life. I was a tourist in my own body."

"Now I have to deal with being home again. I enjoyed my holiday too much, especially my holiday romance." Nagi looked up and smiled at Mamoru, who returned it uncertainly. "I can't reconcile my home self and my foreign self. I'm trying to be more relaxed, but I'm struggling. I can't let go. I hate that attitude you seem to admire, but I'm stuck with it. It's who I am."

"In the same way a telekinetic is _who_ you are?" Mamoru asked softly.

"Sort of. The thing is, now I want to be that other person, that tourist, but I can't. I was so scared of losing my identity in that foreign land that I felt guilty for enjoying being there. I'd just figured out how to let go when I came home again, and now I'm scared of losing that female identity."

"But, it was still you, both ways," Mamoru said, still trying to understand.

"Was Omi the same person as Bombay? As Mamoru? As Persia?" Nagi asked. "You're just as confused as me when it comes to identity."

Mamoru blinked. "Oh."

"Like you said, we're screwed." Nagi laughed bitterly.

There was a long silence, broken only by traffic sounds filtering through the windows and the occasional whirr of a boat along the Thames.

Mamoru looked up and met Nagi's eyes. Nagi could see something clicking inside Mamoru's head, a gear slowly beginning to wind, to speed up, to set the whole engine in motion.

"We're foreigners here," Mamoru said. "We can do what we want, and not have to face the consequences. Blame it on being tourists."

Nagi's mouth curved upwards.

"We are, aren't we?" He leaned over the side of the chair. "I suppose we ought to take advantage of it. I know a very good nightclub, if you're interested."

"I think I am, yes," Mamoru grinned.

"I'll just change," Nagi said, sliding out of the chair, one hand grasping the skirt to explain.

"I'd rather you didn't, I think." Nagi looked startled, then concerned, before catching the wicked glint in Mamoru's eye. "In fact," the politician went on, "I was hoping you could lend me one."

_A/N: Well, that's it. I may go back and edit the earlier parts at some point, maybe insert a few more chapters relating to Nagi dealing with the transformation. It still seems a little rushed, but maybe that's because I've been working on OUAN... Hints, tips, criticism and compliments? I'll take anything I can get. Would love to hear what people thought of this. _

_Anyway, I've promised Anria a sequel to this, so keep your eyes open..._


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